


Where I Am

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Christmas, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt, Gay Sex, M/M, Making Out, Secret Relationship, Starfleet Regulations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: ...Putting up my walls so I last betterDon’t know why I do it because we’re togetherTonight I’m gonna show you, show you what you’ve doneI’m laying down my armour, laying down my gun...From the beginning, it had always been Trip reaching out: comforting, supporting and showing Malcolm how much he loved him, without any demand for reciprocation. It's time Malcolm made it clear where he stands.





	Where I Am

**Author's Note:**

> First time I heard this song, I imagined Malcolm deciding to open up more to Trip – I mean, it has weaponry metaphors in it, how could I not? – and now I can’t not think about that every time I listen to it. This had to be written. It started life as a song fic but as soon as I started writing it promptly grew out of control so I just leave the most pertinent lyrics here as a gist. 
> 
> You’re lost in my game but your love is repeating  
> Always around, you’re never holding me down  
> I know who you are, true colours are showing  
> Though my heart’s bare, always show you care  
> Putting up my walls so I last better  
> Don’t know why I do it because we’re together  
> Tonight I’m gonna show you, show you what you’ve done  
> I’m laying down my armour, laying down my gun  
> Tonight I’m gonna hold you closer than before  
> So you know where I am
> 
> Where I Am by Anja Nissen  
> 

The most surprising thing about Malcolm’s relationship with Trip was perhaps that it felt liberating. One might expect to feel restricted; expectations and obligations limiting what he could do. All of his previous romantic relationships had differing elements of that; things he was expected to do or say or _feel_ as well as a long list of forbidden items. On the contrary, being with Trip meant that Malcolm could do what came naturally to him and be freely accepted. Considering the Southerner’s stereotypical gentlemanly nature, this seemed odd, but as Malcolm had discovered through first-hand experience, Trip’s heart was generous and understanding.

He often thought back to how they’d come to be a couple, especially when he needed cheering up.

“Well, at least it hasn’t spread to the rest of the ship.” Lieutenant Reed sniffed, squinting at the console screen and grumbled in response.

“I don’t see how that’s a cause of celebration.” Commander Tucker huffed and drawled as he climbed out from behind the conduit.

“‘Course you don’t.” Malcolm ignored him, punching in the adjustments into his PADD and muttering.

“Malcolm ‘The Grim Reaper’ Reed strikes again.” Trip froze, looking up at him, expression regretful. They’d been working for a few hours trying to isolate a phantom signature which had been haunting C Deck ever since they’d left on their fateful mission on Shuttlepod One. Some of the Armoury team had joked darkly that _Enterprise_ had known two of her Officers were in trouble and had been trying to warn the rest of the crew. Lieutenant Reed had dismissed this as gallows humour and boomer superstition. Once Phlox had given the two of them a clean bill of health, nightmares notwithstanding, they’d ‘enjoyed’ a day’s leave in which both of them had somehow ended up in their Sections demanding status updates and trying to work. A stern reminder from Captain Archer and threat to invite them to watch water polo with them was enough for the two to begrudgingly return to their quarters. Malcolm knew that Trip had done the same as him through Hoshi, when she’d come to see him that evening, bringing chocolate and gossip. Otherwise, he’d tried to avoid the man linked to a whole host of negative emotions and nauseating memories. He wasn’t sure how to feel that said man had not attempted to see him either. His second day back at work and his team had still been unsuccessful in solving the mystery of the problem reading, so he’d delegated his other tasks to focus on it. After struggling with the problem for over an hour, he’d given in and called the Commander for assistance. Now he was regretting it.

“I don’t see you like that.” Trip brought him back to the present. There was a taught silence as Malcolm’s attention was split between his work and the tangle of emotions stirred by this infuriating man. Trip’s words had been softly-spoken enough that Malcolm could ignore them if he chose. He considered it and then paused to concentrate on the numbers. After a while, Trip spoke again, voice business-like. “Try it again.” Malcolm complied and then ran the scan, the happy beep of success didn’t move him, especially as there was no friendly hand clapping on his shoulder. Instead the Commander nodded and looked down at his own PADD silently. Feeling queasy, Malcolm opened his mouth without knowing what he was going to say. What came out surprised him.

“We should talk about it.” Trip was surprised too but he recovered quickly, coughing and looking away, attempting nonchalance.

“If you want.” Malcolm coughed as well, suggesting smoothly. “21:00, my quarters.” Trip nodded once and then said loudly.

“I’ll get back to Engineering, let me know if you find any more kinks.” Then he was gone and Malcolm’s breathing slowly returned to normal. Now what the Hell was he going to say?

As soon as Commander Tucker entered, the Lieutenant dove straight in to his rehearsed speech, voice wavering slightly despite his desire to keep as detached as possible.

“Firstly, I wish to apologise for my conduct during the incident. I’ve already been told by Captain Archer that no formal reprimand will be issued but-” Tucker interrupted.

“Malcolm, you don’t have anything to apologise for. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry.” He looked embarrassed. “I was the superior officer and I fell apart.”

“All I remember is you convincing me to have hope, to not give up. I don’t think I would have survived without you.”

“I’m glad you were there. I don’t…I never thanked you, for what you did.” Malcolm remembered, his gut freezing all over again as the terrible image of Trip lying cold and dead in the airlock flashed in his mind.

“Good.” He managed to force out. “I’d be offended if you did.” A small smile played on the corner of Trip’s mouth.

“Still, I want you to know how much I appreciate it and don’t say it’s just your job. It was my job as the senior officer to ensure your survival and…I couldn’t stand the thought of you dying.” He gulped, all humour fleeing his expression, only leaving a haunted look. Then he blinked and went on. “You’re so hard to read and stubborn,” he smiled affectionately, “you drive me crazy sometimes. But Hell Malcolm, this ship, my life, wouldn’t be the same without you. You make me laugh and think, you, you challenge me and make me a better engineer, a better person. I trust you with my life. I…I really care about you and-” Suddenly they were kissing. Malcolm was fuzzy on exactly how it happened, lost in the sensation and still reeling from his friend’s heartfelt confession. His heart swelling, he held on to Trip’s arms, drawing him closer. At some point, Trip’s hands found their way to Malcolm’s back: fingers strong where they gripped him. Lips firm, body warm, skin soft but muscles hard…mmmm. After an indeterminable amount of time, they pulled apart slowly.

“If I’d known you’d ah…be amenable, I woulda said it a long time ago.” Blinking, getting used to the feeling of Trip’s body against his, Malcolm asked.

“How long?” Trip’s face flushed even as he huffed a soft laugh.

“Long.” Pressing his palm against a warm cheek, Malcolm struggled to grasp, let alone order his thoughts. Luckily, the man in front of him was more adept with squishy human emotions and more patient than most people gave him credit for. He smiled, the movement of his cheek muscle distracting Malcolm even more. “Kinda sprung this on ya, huh?” Clinging gratefully to the humour, Malcolm re-joined dryly.

“I was the one that snogged you.” He blinked. “I didn’t mean to.” Seeing a golden eyebrow querk upwards, Malcolm fought a groan of frustration. “I just…” He was helpless and pathetic but also lucky because Trip understood.

“I’m definitely not complainin’.” He rubbed a soothing hand on Malcolm’s arm. “You take as long as you need, I’ll be here.” Appreciating the opportunity to get his head straight but reluctant to relinquish his hold, he asked.

“What do you want?” Sensing a mushy response, he hardened his gaze threateningly. Trip quickly amended his answer.

“I want what we have right now. If that doesn’t change, I’ll still be happy. But, if you agree, some ‘snogging’ might be nice too.” He affected an English accent on the word, Malcolm’s brow furrowed. Trip smirked. “You’re not the only one who can do impressions.” That triggered Malcolm’s brain to catalogue all the times he’d imitated the Commander’s accent and who could have blabbed to the man himself.

“So you’re letting me decide this?”

“I’m giving you some breathing room.” Up close, Malcolm could see all the minute shifts in Trip’s expression as he said self-consciously. “Been told before I can come on too strong sometimes.” Eyes softening, he went on quietly. “I really want this to work.” Malcolm filed the self-deprecating comment away for later and asked seriously.

“And if I say no to everything?” Trip didn’t shy away from that scenario, saying seriously.

“Then hopefully we go back to how we are now. I meant it.” Why was he so calm when Malcolm felt so jittery? Damn him!

“I haven’t thought this through. I mean I’ve thought about it, of course,” Trip preened a little, mouthing ‘of course’ to himself. Malcolm let it slide, continuing: “but there are so many factors to consider.” Trip nodded and Malcolm relaxed a bit more; Trip’s open and straightforward attitude was soothing as he realised that Trip was being sincere. Trip made to move away but Malcolm clung on, causing his prisoner to look amused.

“You want me here as a frame of reference?”

“Would sex be a requirement?” Trip jerked his head back a little in disbelief as Malcolm winced at the volume.

“A requirement? Jesus!” Calming a little, he went on in a more normal tone. “I don’t deny that I haven’t had some ideas about that, but I’m not going to make demands on you. I want a relationship, that means doing what makes both of us happy.” He studied Malcolm’s face and then said firmly. “If sex isn’t on the table for you, then it’s not on the table.” Malcolm frowned.

“Just like that?” Trip shrugged as much as he could with them still entwined in each other.

“We’d work it out. I’m not saying it’ll always be easy, might mean some awkward conversations, me sticking my boot in my mouth a lot but, personally, I think it’d be worth it.” Malcolm agreed with the general sentiment, though experience told him to probe further.

“As you know I’ve had a few relationships and whenever I try to explain…not everyone gets it… Some say they do but…”

“Cryptic much?” Seeing Malcolm shift uncomfortably, Trip grew serious, squeezing Malcolm’s arm in apology. “I can’t promise I’ll get whatever ‘it’ is, but I’ll try.” Malcolm sighed, pulling away a little so their arms were still around each other but there was space between them.

“I know you will. Simplest way to explain it: I’m asexual. That’s not to say that I can’t or won’t have sex. I just don’t derive much physical pleasure from it.” Trip adopted his problem-solving face and Malcolm’s stomach dropped.

“You’ve never enjoyed it at all? With men or women?”

“No. It doesn’t matter if the person is experienced, virginal, a long term partner I care deeply for or a one-night stand. I can…reach completion but it’s rare. What I get most out of it is pleasing my partner, working out all their buttons.”

“So it’s like an intellectual thing? You see it like a puzzle?”

“Yes, I suppose so. Without that, I find it all a bit...messy.” He hesitated and then went on. “Of course with any challenge, the thrill lessens when you’ve mastered it.” Trip read between the lines.

“Ah, that got anything to do with the number of exes you were leaving messages for?”

“I went through a phase of thinking I just hadn’t met the right person. After a while I thought that I was the problem,” Trip opened his mouth, looking indignant, but Malcolm continued over him, “then I realised that it’s just who I am. Not better or worse, just different.” Trip relaxed and smiled.

“That’s one of the things I love about you, Malcolm. You don’t take shit from anyone. You are who you are and you don’t care what anyone says.” His words startled and confused Malcolm. That wasn’t right at all. He managed:

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, I would and I just did, so there.” The silliness cut through Malcolm’s solemnness and he chuckled, feeling more optimistic. Trip readjusted his hold, his half-hard cock present but not insistent between them. “I won’t pretend that I don’t enjoy sex and with the right partner, it can bring you closer together, connect you. But it’s not like it’s the be-all and end-all of a relationship. Hell, I was halfway in love with you before we kissed.” He then went beet-red as he realised what he’d said. Again, Malcolm moved without noticing, pressing their lips together firmly, desperately.

This part he’d often enjoyed, once he was comfortable enough to relax in close proximity with someone, making out was nice. Like Trip had mentioned, it made him feel closer to the person. Eventually, they parted again and joy bubbling inside him, Malcolm asked cheekily.

“How about now?” Trip hummed and brushed a stray lock of hair from Malcolm’s forehead, expression soft.

“I don’t have the greatest track record with relationships. But I think if we really try, we could have something amazing. What d’ya think?”

“I agree. If we don’t end up killing each other…it will probably be…good.”

“’Good’ meaning brilliant-incredible-fantastic, right?” Malcolm just raised an eyebrow, making Trip laugh.

After that they talked a little more about some details, migrating to Malcolm’s bunk, sitting sideways, arms still loosely wrapped around each other.

“I mean, we’ll tell people eventually, but just for now…” Malcolm hummed vaguely and Trip mused. “Until Hoshi sniffs it out anyway.” Smirking, Malcolm mock-exclaimed.

“Oh God, we’re going to have to give you acting lessons.” Releasing one hand, Trip began gesticulating wildly.

“Hey! I resent that! I can be subtle!” His new partner snorted inelegantly in response. Trip huffed and put on his best ‘highly offended’ face but it didn’t last long as he broke into laughter. Malcolm patted his hand and said mock-condescendingly.

“It’s alright, my poker face will protect us.” Trip cut him a look and then sat up indignantly, whining.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m pining for you, won’t they?”

“You mean they don’t already?” Trip blushed again, exactly the outcome Malcolm was hoping for. He loved seeing the usually care-free engineer hot under the collar. He leant in and kissed both of the enflamed cheeks, Trip squirming a little, lips twitching.

“Suppose I’ll just have to suffer through it.”

“We know the truth.” They stayed wrapped in each other a while longer before Trip pulled away reluctantly. They said goodnight and as Malcolm lay down ready for sleep, he felt hopeful.

…

For the first few weeks, they took things slowly. So slowly that after a while Malcolm felt that they were now just ‘friends-with-cuddles’. They carried on having meals in the Mess, either alone together or with their friends, sometimes they went to Movie Night together and shared a few sneaky drinks in one of their quarters. The major difference being the increased frequency of spending time alone in quarters and the making out and other physical ventures. At first, Trip would try to ask permission or check it was okay with Malcolm before touching him in private. On duty, shoulder squeezes and back slaps continued as normal but as soon as they were alone, Trip made an effort to police his tactile nature. This endeared and also amused Malcolm, especially when Trip would catch himself, freezing with his hand half-raised and blushing. It was behaviour that Malcolm was familiar with himself. His family having been the opposite of ‘physically demonstrative’, it had taken him a good few years to figure out how to relax enough to tolerate physical contact with others. Friends were easier because the touches were usually fleeting, a handshake, a back slap, that kind of thing he learned to weather without grimacing fairly quickly. Romantic contact, on the other hand, took him longer. His lack of interest in sex for pleasure’s sake didn’t help that, as he wasn’t like the rest of his horny teenage peers, constantly seeking out orgasms with their partners of choice. Though it had been a long time since he’d seen his father’s stern, disapproving face when he’d touched someone intimately, he still remembered the awkwardness it had caused him.

Trip and Malcolm’s first few making-out sessions were slow and sweet, almost like teenagers, learning how to do it. Malcolm was very aware that Trip was restraining himself, often angling his lower half away so his erection didn’t press against Malcolm and pulling away entirely before he got too excited. Malcolm was both touched and saddened by this. Whilst he couldn’t deny feeling flattered and treasured, part of his attraction to the red-blooded engineer was his fiery, passionate nature. Not wanting Trip to feel he had to tone himself down but unsure how to bring it up tactfully, as Trip was being very thoughtful, Malcolm decided to show him instead.

The evening he chose was special because they were both on beta shift the next day, meaning there was plenty of time for Malcolm to wear his partner out before they were due back on duty. After dinner, Malcolm began his offensive. They were heading for Malcolm’s quarters, typically the neater of the two, chatting about the possibility of sentient life of the M-class planet which had been spotted in the system ahead. Malcolm made sure to ‘accidently’ bump hands as they were walking and stand just a hair too close in the turbolift. As soon as the door to his quarters shut behind them, he pounced. Trip seemed surprised but happy, responding eagerly. Jumpsuits were unzipped, shoes kicked off, hair mussed, bodies grappling as the air was filled with moans. Malcolm found himself getting hard and with his last remaining brain power, made sure to rub his length against Trip’s thigh. That was all the cue the man needed as he began to shepherd them to the bed, breaking off to fumble with his bedside cabinet. Triumphant, he held the bottle of lube up as he turned and looked down at where Malcolm had sprawled on the bed, pulling his jumpsuit down past his hips. Trip shivered with desire and rasped.

“You sure?” Grinning wolfishly, Malcolm reached up and tugged Trip down on top of him. It wasn’t even a little bit of a lie when he growled.

“More than.” Together they managed to slick up one of Trip’s large hands and he wrapped it around their eager cocks. Malcolm gasped at the sensation, his pride at instigating the passionate encounter smothered by the feeling of Trip’s body on him, his warmth, his voice as he muttered and moaned. Panting and grinning, Malcolm slid a hand up to Trip’s cheek and watched with fascination. Trip looked back at him as much as he could with his eyelids fluttering from the pleasure.

“Malcolm!” He groaned. His name, wrenched through puffy lips had never sounded so good. “Malcolm, I’m gonna…” Trip stiffened, a whine stuck in his throat as he came. Malcolm watched, a lazy smile on his face. Sagging, Trip panted into Malcolm’s shoulder, catching his breath. Then he looked up and back down to where his hand lay between their sweat-slicked bodies…and Malcolm’s still hard cock. He pushed himself up again, reaching for it, but Malcolm curled his fingers around his wrist.

“It’s okay,” he said breathlessly, “I don’t need to.” Trip searched his face, assessing. Finally, he asked quietly.

“Do you mind if I keep on? I want you to have fun too.” Throat tight as his partner’s earnestness, Malcolm nodded once and Trip smiled brilliantly, shifting down so his mouth was hovering over Malcolm’s groin. “This okay?” His breath was cool against heated skin. Malcolm managed to moan in reply. Eyes twinkling, Trip bent his head down and began licking Malcolm’s shaft, lapping at the head and suckling the balls. Malcolm fully-hardened very quickly and his breathing sped up. After flicking his eyes up to Malcolm’s face to check in, Trip slid his hands under his arse cheeks and squeezed, at the same time sliding his mouth down, down down Malcolm’s cock. Malcolm gasped, his hips jerking up of their own accord, causing Trip to gag. Guiltily, Malcolm apologised breathily and tied to pull away, but Trip just released his cock, coughed once and then grinned.

“Havin’ fun yet?” His voice was slightly hoarse but Malcolm hardly had time to consider that before his cock was being peppered with kisses, a hand firmly grasping the shaft. He squirmed, breath stuttering as he completely failed to reply. Then Trip wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and hummed. Hands flew into blond hair, clenching spastically.

“Oh God, Trip!” Trip continued using his hands and mouth until Malcolm couldn’t take it anymore and came, long and hard, straight down Trip’s throat. A thrill of shame pulsed in his gut, though it was almost drowned out by the electrical pulses crackling all over his body. Trip swallowed and then released him gently, staggering to the head, coming back with a damp cloth. He wiped them both down carefully. Malcolm just lay panting, apologising – again – but Trip just smiled. He finished up and then asked casually.

“How’d ya feel about tasting yer own come? Yay or nay?” He laughed at the expression on Malcolm’s face and disappeared into the head again, rinsing the cloth and washing his mouth out in the sink. When he returned, he got back into bed, snuggling up under Malcolm’s chin. He didn’t say anything, just sighing happily and Malcolm began to feel anxious. Trip had implied with his question that a kiss was in the near future, hadn’t he? Was Trip regretting what they’d just done? Malcolm wondered if he’d hurt the other man somehow. He apologised again, just to make sure.

“I am so sorry I…lost control a bit. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Trip surprised him with his reply.

“I liked it: seeing you lose a little control.” Then he shifted, propping himself up on an elbow so he could see Malcolm’s face. “Just wondering how much you enjoyed it. I got the impression sex for you was more about control and honing your skills than physical pleasure.” Malcolm considered, before confessing.

“It is, mostly, but it’s not like that for you.”

“Ah, so the ambush was for me?” Trip’s lip twisted uncomfortably. Malcolm sighed and pushed through his awkwardness.

“Believe it or not, I like your passion. I’ve felt like you’ve been holding back recently.”

“Okay I have, but I haven’t been worse for it, or unhappy. I really like the time we spend together.”

“I have too.”

“What about just now?” Trip sounded sceptical.

“That too, Trip.” He shifted so he was also on his side, putting a hand on Trip’s face. “I appreciate you being careful with me, but you don’t have to be. I won’t run if you breathe wrong or do something I don’t like.”

“I want to be careful.” He leaned into Malcolm’s hand. “I haven’t always been,” he sighed, gaze sliding downwards to the bed, “sometimes I can be really oblivious, or put my foot in things cos I’m not thinking. I don’t want to do that with you.” Malcolm smiled, unable to help the amusement bubbling up.

“Trip, remember that I did know you before we got together.” Seeing his mirth, Trip huffed, lips twitching. Malcolm went on. “I knew what I was signing up for…kind of looking forward to fighting and then making up…” At this, Trip leaned in and kissed him. Malcolm kissed back and when they parted said: “Just be yourself.”

“As long as you’re being yourself too. You won’t force yourself to do anything just cos you think it’ll make me happy.”

“Deal.”

From then on, Malcolm noticed Trip relaxing into their relationship. He was looser when they were alone, both physically and with his tongue. He went through an exasperating phase of testing various pet names to see how he like them, and how much Malcolm hated them. It was certainly a test of Malcolm’s patience, though he couldn’t remain silent when ‘honeybun’ was fired his way. His patented Death Glare only made Trip laugh, however, and promise to only use it on special occasions. Multiple pokes in the ribs made him squirm and yield, and still laughing, amending it to the ‘never again’ category. Malcolm was a little dismayed to find his annoyance tempered by affection and his love for the sound of Trip’s carefree laughter. He would put up with a lot to hear Trip laugh.

To his relief, Trip’s behaviour in public hardly changed; he was professional on duty and friendly off duty. If anything, he pulled away from interaction in public places. If they wanted to eat together, he would suggest one of their quarters, even if Malcolm had put the kibosh on mixing food with sex. He would permit flirty looks over dinner but any footsie would get glares and wandering hands would get a light smack. Trip had once begun recounting a time he’d used whipped cream in the bedroom but was quickly silenced by the Death Glare and hadn’t brought it up again since. They were also careful not to leave themselves open to speculation. The food they ordered to Reed’s quarters would be snack-like, any type of food ostensibly being eaten during a brainstorming session on some sort of Engineering/Weaponry problem. They had an ‘excuse’ for around 60% of their time spent together off-duty, according to Malcolm’s calculation on how often they had hung out before getting together and of course, neither of them stayed the night. Malcolm also ensured with a handy algorithm that they spent sufficient time with their other friends. It seemed to be working; no one had indicated that they had noticed the pair’s changed relationship and any lingering looks Trip might let slip on the Bridge or in Decon was put down to his appreciation of Malcolm’s body – he certainly wasn’t alone in that regard. But as Malcolm had predicted, his complete control over his own behaviour ensured that no one suspected that the pair were together or even that Malcolm returned Trip’s interest.

…

Trip was so open, so without artifice that Malcolm always knew where he stood, where they stood. Trip never made any secrets if he was offended or upset, even if the exact reason for his sulking might be a bit harder to extract. In return, Trip refused to accept Malcolm’s brush-offs, always digging for the truth of what might be upsetting the Englishman. He would give Malcolm time and space to process but his patience wasn’t infinite and he had a sneaky trick of expressing his own feelings about whatever it is they were disagreeing about, guilting Malcolm into doing the same. It went against Malcolm’s nature to give in and tell him, but at the same time, it made a lot of things easier. It was comforting, that even when they were at odds, they were still in sync, still understanding each other.

It would take him too long to list the things he loved about Trip. He loved the big things, like Trip’s endless energy and enthusiasm; his sturdy loyalty, breath-taking intellect and monumental passion and drive – it was truly a marvel to see him work. But Malcolm also loved the cute little things that weren’t obvious, little glimpses that you had to tug on and follow it to a delightful quirk only you knew about.

His favourite example of these was Trip not knowing the difference between a turtle and a tortoise. The details in the memory of when he’d first noticed this were sketchy, all he really remembered was a diving story involving Trip and his friends, a stranded row boat and a passing ‘tortoise’. Once he’d realised, suddenly the animals seemed to come up in conversation a lot. Malcolm had been amused by this error, despite his automatic dislike of factual inaccuracies. After a few times of letting it slide, he’d pointed Trip’s error out, but his lover had waved an uninterested hand and carried on with his story with hardly a pause. Malcolm didn’t know why, but that almost childlike lack of concern with technical details just made him smile. Reeds were taught to be deeply ashamed of any ignorance or emotional vulnerability whereas Tuckers seemed to let slights on their honour roll off their back. Goodness knew Trip seemingly shrugged off enough digs at his intelligence due to his accent and upbringing. In his place, Malcolm would have bristled and hit back, but Trip either ignored or shrugged off such insults. He was above reacting to them, making him appear almost regal in that regard.

That didn’t mean that Trip didn’t feel anything; he had his soft spots like everyone else and slurs concerning his sexual history were almost guaranteed to hit him hard, even if he tried to cover it up. The first time he’d told Malcolm that he thought Malcolm was beautiful, a concept Malcolm still found odd to think about, the Englishman had made a pig’s ear of responding. They’d been lying entwined together after a slow, almost lazy make-out session when Trip, nuzzling Malcolm’s collarbone sleepily had said wondrously.

“You’re so beautiful.” Uncomfortable in that uniquely English way, Malcolm quipped dryly.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Trip had tensed minutely, before relaxing very deliberately. Malcolm frowned even as Trip re-joined sincerely, quietly.

“It’s true.” Malcolm suddenly felt jittery; unable to see Trip’s face as he was currently hiding it in Malcolm’s shoulder, he pushed his lover back slightly. It was times like this that Malcolm thanked the gods for Trip’s terrible poker face. The lovable fool was trying to pretend he wasn’t bothered by Malcolm’s words. He thought for a moment, then said softly, regretfully.

“I didn’t mean to imply you were being insincere.” Trip relaxed more and even smiled a little ruefully.

“There haven’t been that many.”

“I didn’t mean that either.”

“I know! I know you were just joking so you didn’t have to accept my compliment.” Malcolm twisted his lip, cursing his own transparency as Trip went on. “I just…I know what people say about me.” Malcolm knew too. When he’d first joined _Enterprise_ he’d thought that the rumours concerning Commander Fucker were crude but accurate. Even after they’d become friends…But since they'd been together, seeing the sweet, almost innocent side to his partner, the crass speculation made him angry. Even more angry seeing Trip’s insecurities over it. Malcolm had never tolerated gossiping in the Armoury and reprimanded anyone when hearing it. The fact that reprimands over whispers about the Commander were harsher than rumours about anyone else was the Lieutenant's business.

“Anyone who believes baseless gossip is a fool and doesn't belong on this ship. You'd be surprised what twaddle gets banded around the lower decks.” Propping his head on his elbow, Trip’s tone turned teasing.

“Don’t tell me you’ve bugged the Mess Hall.” Ignoring the typical playful exaggeration, Lieutenant Reed continued sniffily.

“It is always prudent to keep appraised of any information, true or not, and those disseminating it. It’s especially useful as a form of constant evaluation of crew relationships, competency and any disciplinary concerns. I know exactly whose tongues wag even though they know better than to do it within my hearing anymore.” Trip considered this and then a large smile spread across his lips.

“Why Mr Reed, are you saying that you’ve been defending my honour?” Again, Malcolm briefly wrestled with the instinct to deny the Southerner’s realisation and escape the whole conversation; something developed in childhood and reinforced by his operative days. Grounding himself by focusing on the warmth of his boyfriend beside him, his slow and steady puffs of breath on the side of his face, he found himself blushing and muttering haughtily.

“I’m not entirely sure where you’d get that preposterous idea.” Happily, Trip dipped his head to noisily kiss Malcolm’s shoulder before tucking himself back into his embrace.

“Huh, dunno. Just ignore me then.” His heart swelling, Malcolm hugged Trip closer to him and whispered.

“As if I ever could.”

…

One day, Trip told Malcolm that he loved him. In what must have been a surprise to the easy-going Southerner, even though after months of dating a self-confessed emotionally-stunted Brit he should have expected the effect this declaration produced in his lover. Instead of feeling loved and important, Malcolm had instantly become tense and suspicious. They’d been reclining on Malcolm’s bunk, Trip against the bulkhead, Malcolm against him, half-watching a terrible action film from a few years ago. Malcolm had been tutting and ripping into the scientific errors and plot clichés, Trip chuckling and dropping random kisses on the parts of his lover he could reach from his position. Then apropos of nothing Trip had said it, softly, his voice deep with affection. Malcolm froze and Trip tensed in response, after a beat carefully broaching the stony silence.

“That a bad thing?” His lover didn’t answer. Using his PADD on the bedside cabinet, Trip paused the movie. “Malcolm?” Finally, Malcolm unfroze, pulling away and sitting up, voice sharp.

“I just don’t know what you expect from me when you say that.” Cruel laughter rang in his head, haunting him. He’d never thought Trip would use the same tricks as the others had. Part of him tried to point out that Trip wasn’t like them, but there was too much remembered pain in his chest for him to listen. Trip’s mouth hung a little open in disbelief before he rallied.

“Nothing! I don’t expect anything!” Snorting, Malcolm stood and folded his arms, looking down on his boyfriend still lying on the bed.

“Come on, that’s a lie. Everyone always wants something.” Trip pushed himself up, took a deep breath and said sincerely.

“I want for you to know that I love you. I want you to be safe and happy and…I want to take care of you.” Huffing at Malcolm’s lack of unbending, he bit out sharply. “I realise that I may not get those things. You’re not…obligated to do anything or say anything.”

“No one means it.” The look on Trip’s face made him realise just how bitter that last statement had been and he turned away, stalking to the window.

“I do.” Trip stood too, though he didn’t move closer to the glacier in the corner. “Don’t you trust me?” Turning slightly so he could see his partner, Malcolm just felt tired and sad.

“I do. I’m sorry…I want to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Except that he did. He _did_. Breathing in deeply, pain still lingering in his features, Trip half-sighed.

“It’s okay.” Suddenly, frustration burst through the tired resignation. Here was a gorgeous, passionate, loving man who wanted to be with him despite everything and he was throwing that in the man’s face? He whirled around and uncrossed his arms.

“No! It’s not okay! You just told me you- you _love_ me and I got angry with you! You don’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you.” Malcolm did a double take. He didn’t think he’d ever given voice to past emotional abuse or neglect; he hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods nor the best track record with romantic relationships and there had been that one disastrous occasion of the L word being used against him…but he’d never felt abused. Most of the time he tried to forget any unpleasant memories but didn’t everyone? “No one learns how to behave in a vacuum Malcolm. Whatever’s making you angry or scared, it’s not something you were born with, it’s something you learned.” That made Malcolm pause and something clicked into place. He’d known even as a child that he was different from other people; he didn’t react in the same way as they did, had even been different from Maddie. She’d been raised in the same family but had somehow remained warm and loving. Burying himself in work and armouring himself with duty and ranks had been his go-to method of avoiding people questioning his natural standoffishness. It’d been that way for so long that it didn’t often bother him anymore. Hearing Trip lay it out so plainly just hit him right in the chest and he found himself admitting.

“I know that. I just don’t know how to unlearn it.” Trip dared take a few steps in his direction.

“I’m not a psychiatrist or anything but we can work on it together; take it a day at a time.” That sounded reasonable. It also sounded scary.

“Why are you bothering?” Trip had seemed to anticipate this question because his expression hardly changed as he asked.

“You trust my judgement?” Still feeling unbalanced by the whole conversation, Malcolm tried to inject some humour.

“Depends, about what? Warp Theory: yes. Dress sense…” But Trip didn’t accept the distraction, his face still and deadly serious. Malcolm relented, answering honestly: “Yes.” Trip took his hand.

“You’re worth it. You’re a good man: you’re steady and sharp and warm.” Malcolm blinked. No one had ever accused him of being warm before, it was usually the opposite. Trip wasn’t done. “You don’t back down when you know you’re right, when you can help people, save people. You’re our Protector, Malcolm. You look out for us and lay your life on the line for us and you don’t need one word of thanks.” Still stunned, Malcolm was even more shocked when Trip’s voice began to shake with emotion; his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you and it kills me that you’re surprised I do.” His own throat painfully tight, Malcolm wordlessly gathered his lover into a desperate embrace.

It would take a long time, several weeks in the end, for him to untangle all Trip had said to him and work through the emotions the words stirred up. Once again, he marvelled at the engineer’s understanding as he just let Malcolm process it undisturbed, offering support and warm hands, rubbing and caressing to soothe his troubled brow.

As Trip had suggested, they didn’t set a time limit for Malcolm accepting Trip’s declaration nor him responding – Trip insisted on that very strongly. Slowly, Malcolm grew more comfortable accepting gestures of affection and making them back without wincing or feeling a sense of dread. Sometimes he would lie still and warm in his bed, putting off the moment he would have to rouse his dozing partner to relinquish the comforting hold on him, get up and leave before morning, and Malcolm would wonder if this easy partnership could last forever. He desperately hoped it would and equally as desperately feared it wouldn’t. If he became too tense over these duelling emotions, however, Trip would begin to stir, murmuring sleepily but with concern. At that point, Malcolm would put his doubts aside and stroke his lover’s hair soothingly. If Trip began to snore, Malcolm would smirk and poke him until he stopped but if Trip suggested he make a move, Malcolm would always reply:

“Five more minutes.”

…

The next challenge in their relationship was actually not about them, but about everyone else and what they would think. Neither of them was relishing the idea of being gossip fodder or the topic of any Command meetings, but if they were going to be long-term, they needed to be out in the open, officially-acknowledged. At least, according to one of them. Trip presented his arguments well, all very valid and with sound reasoning. Malcolm knew the man was right and his citing of Section 4.23 of Starfleet Regulations actually made Malcolm a little teary with pride. Trip had really done his homework. Despite this, Malcolm just couldn’t help baulking at the idea of people questioning his professionalism or competency, of people smirking as they imagined what he did in private – more than they did already. Part of this reaction was tied to his belief that they would be just as incredulous as he was that Trip would choose to be with him. He didn’t want to bring that up with Trip though, afraid that his continued low self-esteem would begin to frustrate his saintly-patient partner. He also deliberately did not mention to Trip what he calculated certain incidents in his partner’s career – mostly pregnancy-related – had done to damage said career’s prospects; even though the knowledge burned him inside. He knew that Trip wasn’t as bothered with promotions and ranks as he was but he still felt bad that it wasn’t likely his partner would rise beyond Captain, if that. The Armoury Officer, on the other hand, was concerned with his career, hoping for a long and successful one.

Trip wasn’t happy with Malcolm’s insistence they keep their relationship a secret, and in true engineering fashion, suggested an alternative: they progress in stages. Perhaps they could just tell the Captain and ask him to keep it from Command for the time being. Like a trial run. Captain Archer didn’t flaunt regs needlessly but he did value his crew’s well-being, of course he wouldn’t betray their trust in order to keep the higher-ups informed. Malcolm didn’t share his partner’s optimism nor unwavering faith in Jonathan Archer. He was aware of the pair’s long-standing friendship and whilst he acknowledged that it had an overwhelmingly positive effect on both men and the crew in general, it also meant that Trip could get away with somethings another officer would not be able to. The Commander rarely abused this power and when he did, it was for small, tongue-in-cheek requests as opposed to dangerous or self-serving favours. However, it did lead Trip to think he held special privileges, or rather, foster a false idea of where the rank boundaries lay. Malcolm was not so blinded and was not at all convinced that Captain Archer would have no objection to their relationship or support it unconditionally. The Lieutenant did feel bad when Trip brought up how much he disliked hiding his relationship from his best friend but not enough to jeopardise said relationship by giving permission for Trip to tell.

Things came to a head in the run up to Christmas. The crew was looking forward to the holiday celebrations after a long, boring stretch of astrometric surveys and dead space. Trip had had plenty of opportunity to chip away at Malcolm’s resolve and irritation was building on both sides. Whilst they mostly managed to keep it out of duty hours, their off-duty interactions were becoming strained and others were beginning to notice. Malcolm had been approached by both Hoshi and Captain Archer and was sure that his partner had also been cornered and asked if everything was okay. He wasn’t sure his answers had been convincing but his reputation as tight-lipped worked in his favour as both gave up their questioning pretty quickly.

December 22nd, Trip sent Malcolm a private message asking to meet after their shifts were over. It was saying something that they hadn’t worked out when they’d next be spending time together face to face. Typically, they’d arrange something before parting – read, leaving the safety of their quarters – or sometimes they’d make a causal and veiled request when in other, public parts of the ship. ‘I’ll send you an update later’ or ‘ping that through to my terminal after your shift’ were some examples of phrase they liked to use.

Malcolm entered Trip’s quarters and took a moment to notice how atypically tidy it was. Trip was just rising from his desk chair, looking solemn. They stood in a taught silence before Trip asked hoarsely.

“Have you gotten bored of me? Is that it?” Malcolm’s heart leap into his throat.

“No! No I…Never that!” Although incoherent, as usual Trip understood his meaning and relief flashed across his face, but then his tone turned bitter and frustrated.

“Well, then... Were you ever going to agree to tell people?” Disturbed by this but also tired of thinking about it, Malcolm retorted.

“Are you ever going to stop banging on about it?”

“No, I guess I’m going to keep on ‘banging on’ until I understand what your problem is!”

“My _problem_ is that this isn’t a simple yes or no question, there are potentially long-lasting consequences and I for one don’t what to be gawped at by the rest of the crew like an animal at the zoo!”

“Neither do I! But it kinda comes with the territory, Mal! You gotta take the bad with the good.”

“I do not have to suffer a blow to my career-” Trip opened his mouth but Malcolm cut over him, “I know you’re not ambitious but some of us want to have a shot at Admiral someday!”

“And what the Hell does us being together have to do with your career opportunities? Plenty of the old fogies are married. They’re not monks!”

“They’re also not serving on the same ship with such thin rank boundaries. If the Captain and T’Pol are out of commission, that leaves you in command and my direct superior.” Trip’s hands began waving as he countered that hotly.

“We know that’s not a problem! It hasn’t been in all these months! I’ve been in command at least three times and it’s been fine!”

“Sure we know that, but _they_ don’t!”

“Who’s they?”

“Don’t play dumb! Command! The ones who make the promotion decisions, one bad rumour can damage one’s standing,” he ignored Trip mouthing ‘one’s standing’ mockingly, “as you well know!” Trip’s head snapped around and he demanded.

“What are you talking about?”

“You might not care what Command thinks of you and your exploits, but I have more long terms plans to consider.” There was a beat of silence and then Trip’s eyes narrowed to slits, his voice quiet and dangerous.

“That’s real nice, Malcolm. You’re saying that our relationship is,” he choked, “holding you back?” Malcolm looked away, unable to look at those shining eyes. “You neglected to mention this …secrecy clause when we got together.” The Southerner’s voice was getting thicker and louder as he grew more and more upset. “Were you hoping I’d just…what, stop bringing it up? Forget? What the Hell are we doing?” Malcolm didn’t answer, heart heavy. “Malcolm! Can you not be an emotionally retarded asshole for once in your life and answer me!” The insult stung, but Malcolm couldn’t stop hearing the crack in his love’s voice when he’d said his name. He breathed in deeply before stating calmly.

“I want to be with you. I…can’t tell you how much.” Trip was unmoved and Malcolm felt like crying. “But sometimes love isn’t enough, or it isn’t more than…there’s…God.” Trip seemed to be ignoring his rambling, interrupting coldly.

“I never thought you were a coward.” Insides freezing over, Malcolm could only stand and listen as Trip ripped into him with passionless efficiency. “God knows you can be a difficult and downright pessimistic son of a bitch sometimes, but I never saw you running scared from anything.” Unable to think of anything to say, Malcolm turned and slipped out of the room.

By unspoken agreement, they didn’t see each other whilst off-duty. Malcolm tried his best to ignore the gaping hole in his chest, throwing himself into work until he would collapse into bed and sleep dreamlessly. He didn’t think about where his partner was or what he was doing or whether they were still…he ruthlessly squashed all stray musings or memories. He was fine. He wasn't reeling from Trip's scalpel-like insults or disgusted expression or lack of effort to apologise. He wasn't cold in his bed at night and lonely in his off-hours. He was fine.

On Christmas morning, around 5:30am, there was a chime at Malcolm’s door. Groggy, he answered it and was only slightly surprised to see Trip standing there, looking shifty and sheepish at the same time, holding something in his hands.

“Can I come in?” Gut swirling with clashing emotions, Malcolm nodded and stepped back. As Trip stepped past him, his scent filled Malcolm’s nose and he squeezed his eyes shut, his resolve wavering. Closing the door again, he noted.

“Bit early.” Trip ducked his head down, muttering.

“I didn’t want anyone to see…” They both shifted uncomfortably. Then Trip took a deep breath and said simply. “I’m sorry.” Malcolm didn’t need to ask what for and he also didn’t need anything more than that. Squaring his jaw, he said.

“I’m sorry too. You were right: I am scared. I’m scared what our relationship might mean for us down the line, or even right now. I’m scared by how much…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, throat closing up but Trip’s eyes softened all the same.

“I don’t want to fight about this anymore. Here.” He held out a small box, wrapped a little clumsily in shiny paper. With slightly trembling hands, Malcolm took it and unwrapped it carefully. It was an empty photo frame. Blinking, Malcolm could only watch mutely as Trip leaned over and pressed a button on the back. A picture appeared on the front…on the screen. It was electronic. Malcolm focused on the photo and realised that it was of the Tactical team, all of them. They were posing in the Armoury, some of them halfway up the ladder, Ensign Hart and Crewman Walker kneeling at the front of the group. Most of them grinning, one or two of the shier ones grimacing or trying to hide behind the larger members. For a moment, Malcolm wondered how Trip had managed to wrangle them all together. Then the image changed and it was obviously a joke photo: the team posing in ironic ‘hero’ or ‘heroic dying’ poses, some with their fingers in gun shapes, others leaning propped up against bulkheads, holding their sides, looking stoic in the face of certain death; Ensign Horton had his arms raised and face snarling like a Klingon warrior, Crewwoman Tyrell on the floor underneath him, pretending to shoot him, her own face pulled back in a warrior cry. Crewman Foster and Walker were back to back ‘holding’ phase pistols in both hands; Crewman Carter had his arm pulled back as if to throw a grenade and Ensign Marcel was half hidden behind the railings at the top of the photo, one eye closed as he ‘aimed’ through a ‘sniper rifle’. What made Malcolm chuckle though was Crewwoman Gardner, a notoriously humourless Intelligence Officer, standing in the corner, arms folded, giving a quelling look to Ensign Zabel, who appeared to be posing like he was about to lop her head off with a long sword. Zabel’s apologetic grimace was quite a sight to see.

Then the image changed again and it was Travis and Hoshi, posing in the Mess Hall, then there was Dr Phlox and his unnervingly large grin, and then- Malcolm laughed- the Captain and T’Pol standing awkwardly in the Situation Room. Archer was trying to smile but was obviously wary of the Sub Commander who was giving the camera her version of a Death Glare. It was a wonder Trip hadn’t been incinerated on the spot. There were other photos and Malcolm was sure he’d secretly enjoy scrolling through them later, but now he looked up and tried to talk through the lump in his throat.

“Thank you.” Trip just smiled tentatively.

“Merry Christmas, Malcolm.” And Malcolm knew then that he would give Trip his present – a shirt he’d requisitioned from the Quartermaster that was a tasteful dark blue on one side and hideously patterned with flamingos on the other (so Malcolm would be able to stay on one side of the engineer and not get blinded) – then they’d snuggle, maybe make out a little, go to Christmas breakfast and check up on their sections, then get ready for the Christmas Party with all the ‘fun and games’ the Captain had insisted on including. They’d make eyes at each other from across the room and duck out of the Christmas disco and spend the rest of the night wrapped up in each other, relieved and happy and safe and warm and so all he said back was:

“Merry Christmas, Trip.”

…

They saw through the New Year in this tentative truce and then as January turned into February, they’d settled down into a new normal. They hadn’t talked about their feelings about the secrecy surrounding their relationship and with a jolt one morning, Malcolm realised that they weren’t going to. Subconsciously, he’d been waiting for Trip to bring it up but he hadn’t. They still hung out, bickered, joked around but the physical side of their relationship waned. It took a while for Malcolm to pinpoint his misgivings but eventually he realised that Trip had almost stopped touching him. He would still kiss Malcolm hello and goodbye and they’d still occasionally make out, but the playfulness, the causal affection and most of all the confidence of the touches were subdued, toned down. At first Malcolm was afraid; did this mean that Trip didn’t love him anymore? Had the things he’d shouted during that terrible argument been too much? Unforgivable? Did he want to break up?

No, that wouldn’t be like Trip. The man said what he meant and didn’t hold back. So what was happening? Why was he being unusually quiet and reserved? Malcolm desperately wanted to know what was going on in his partner’s head but couldn’t bring himself to broach the topic himself. Suddenly he realised how much heavy lifting Trip had been doing whenever he’d badgered Malcolm into discussions about their relationship. Ironically, he wished he could confide in someone and ask their advice. He even found himself imagining how a conversation with T’Pol would go. He felt cut off from everyone else and then he found himself wondering how Trip was coping with not talking to anyone and immediately felt terrible. Trip was a social creature, he often supported others emotionally and received support in return. Except that Malcolm had isolated part of Trip from his friends. He’d made Trip of all people keep a secret. It didn’t matter if he had good, unselfish reasons: the effect was still the same.

One day, he managed to ask if they were alright and Trip rushed to reassure him. He conceded that he’d been more hesitant lately, not wanting to overwhelm Malcolm or push him away by being needy, which just made Malcolm feel worse. In an effort to correct things, Malcolm started initiating physical contact more and more. Hugs, holding hands, cuddling, he began and encouraged all of them. He even brought Trip off a few times, though Trip always insisted that he knew how to take care of himself so Malcolm shouldn’t feel obligated. This strategy greatly improved his partner’s mood and their relationship stabilised again, both of them relaxing into the easy partnership they’d shared before. Apart from a fleeting wistfulness and uncertainty in Trip’s expression every so often, things were back to normal. Malcolm had gotten his way. Therein lay the problem. They were meant to be in it together; they were both mean to ‘win’. It wasn’t enough to get back to where they’d been, Trip had been unhappy before. All that had happened was that he’d lowered his standards of happiness. How could Malcolm profess to be a good boyfriend if he let that stand? He had to do something. Something meaningful. Something uncomfortable. Something he’d hate…

He went to see the Captain.

“According to Section 4.23 of Starfleet Regulations, two fleet members are permitted to enter into a consensual romantic relationship as long as they are not in the same chain of command.” Captain Archer blinked at this opener, PADD held limply in his hand and half-squatting over his chair. After a beat he finished sitting down, put the PADD on the desk and asked slowly.

“Malcolm, are you trying to tell me that you’re dating someone on _Enterprise?_ ” Taking in the Lieutenant’s stiff nod, he looked like he was trying to hold back on whistling incredulously. “Don’t take offence but you’re the last person I would have guessed to start a…romantic relationship on board.” Feeling a little out of his body, Malcolm still registered a hint of a smile on his lips as he admitted softly.

“You and me both, but…” The Captain smiled knowingly.

“The heart wants what it wants.” Malcolm winced minutely at the cheesiness but couldn’t deny the sentiment. “So, can I ask who it is or…?” At this he did shift a little.

“Actually, sir, it was me who didn’t want to tell anyone. I was…concerned how it might affect our careers.” The Captain looked completely unfazed by this and gestured for him to carry on. “But then I realised the secret was only making him unhappy, me as well. He’s worth the risk.” If Archer was further surprised by Reed’s partner’s gender, he didn’t express it, merely listening as Malcolm went on. “He’ll probably want to tell you himself but…” His stomach dropped: _what was he doing?_ “I thought I’d make the gesture.” He finished lamely. Smiling, the Captain drummed the table and declared.

“I’m sure whoever he is, he’ll appreciate it. How about you two talk about it and then, if he agrees, come and have dinner with me tomorrow night. We can discuss it then.” Malcolm nodded sharply and then excused himself, power walking across the Bridge and into the turbolift. Going down, it hit him just how stupid and impulsive he’d been. Of course Trip would want to tell his best friend about his relationship himself. And after all the whinging Malcolm had been doing about feeling comfortable, he’d hadn’t given any thought to Trip wanting to be involved in their ‘coming out’. Maybe he’d had a plan and Malcolm had never let him get to explaining it. Maybe he thought that the Captain would be hurt by their secret and was going to break it gently. Maybe he’d jeopardised the pair’s friendship! This is why he should never just do things! The lift opened and by Divine Provenance, Commander Tucker was standing in front of it. As he recognised Malcolm and began to smile Malcolm lunged forward and tugged him in, punching the door-close button.

“Trip!” Bemused, Trip laughed.

“Woah! Where’s the fire!” Now he had his partner standing there expectantly, his smell curling around him like a warm blanket, he didn’t know what to say. Dread climbed up his insides and lodged in his heart. Trip frowned, a hand reaching for his partner’s face. “Malcolm, what’s wrong?” Malcolm stepped back, avoiding the concerned hand which fell sadly.

“I’ve…done something.” He could see Trip’s mind whirring but all he said was.

“Okay…” The dread had turned to panic, clawing wildly at his internal organs. How could he have hurt this amazing man?

“I’m so sorry! I…” Trip spoke again in the voice Malcolm recognised as his ‘trying-to-remain-calm’ voice.

“You what?”

“I may have…” He coughed and soldiered on. _Just say it_. “I told Captain Archer that I was seeing someone on _Enterprise._ ” Trip just stared at him and he cursed himself. Why did he have to ruin things? He said hoarsely. “I didn’t really think this through.” Trip thought for a moment and then asked blankly.

“You did something stupid and impulsive…for me?”

“I wanted to show you that I’m here too, it’s not just you…I mean…I was trying…Oh God, Trip, I’m sor-” He was interrupted by Trip’s lips on his. When he pulled back, he thought dazedly that he’d never seen his partner’s eyes so wide. It wasn’t joy on his face so much as wonder. Breath catching, Malcolm couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen that expression before. This time he allowed the hand to cup his cheek and feeling emboldened, he gripped Trip’s arm in return and suggested.

“Let’s go back up, tell him together.” Trip’s lips twitched as he asked.

“People see you leave the Ready Room like your ass was on fire?” Malcolm shuffled awkwardly in response so Trip swallowed and said carefully. “It’d probably look a bit suspicious if people see us both go up there now.” For a split second, Malcolm began to wince at the censure but then realised that it wasn’t censure or disapproval at all. He was the one overlaying Trip’s tone with it. He played back the words again, feeling tentative finger tips slide into his hair, and this time he only heard concern and love. Trip was careful about exactly two things: his engines and Malcolm. And he’d never realised before what an honour that was. He darted up and pecked Trip on the lips before leaning across him to send the lift back up to the Bridge.

“Let them.” When Trip didn’t say anything, Malcolm looked up anxiously and all of his breath was taken away. He’d never seen Trip look that happy.

There was only one thing he could do when confronted by that luminescent face; smile back.

**Author's Note:**

> Watched ‘Shuttlepod One’ again and realised that Trip’s line about the cartoon with the snails on the back of a turtle doesn’t make sense, they’d drown! So unless they were sea snails he must mean a tortoise. For some reason I just love the idea that he mixed up the two and Malcolm does too.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> PS.  
> I'm working on a fic from Trip’s POV. Any guesses what the song inspiration for his POV is?


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